Joyeux Anniversaire, mon beau Arthur
by Hospitalized Heartless
Summary: "Because everyone wants to be told 'Happy Birthday' whenever the time arrives. Country or not- you always want to feel remembered, oui?" Rated T for language and slight sexual remarks FrUk, Francis x Arthur, France x England


Joyeux Anniversaire, mon beau Arthur

It all started just by reading a book. One. Simple. Little. Book. It was one that his fearie friends of his had found at the library for him as Arthur mostly spent his Spring relaxing. Especially on days when he had nothing to do. And that's what he thought this day was; a day where you didn't have to do anything and you could just relax with a good book to read and a nice spot of tea. Currently, the man was sitting in his office, leaning back in his chair while tightly gripping the burgundy book in his hand. His eyes scanned over the next line of the page, trying to understand the concept of this book. It was certainly odd to say the least, but fun all the same for being Fantasy. After all- that's what Arthur loved so much. Fantasy.

Of course, every good thing had to have an end as Arthur noticed when he heard a ringing from his doorbell. With a grunt of dissatisfaction, the man got up from his book. "Who could it bloody be at this hour?" He looked over at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, almost half past five at night. "You'd think they could've done it earlier… But it might be my boss." _And god knows how bloody horrible that would be… _Shaking his head, the Britain stood up and tucked in his chair under his desk. Had he been paying much attention to today, he would've noticed a glittered circle (as done by the fearie friends of Arthur's) around the date on the calendar right above his head. But alas, he did not and immediately stood up with a groan from his desk upstairs, placing a book mark in between his book and its page before trumping downstairs. "Yes- yes. I'm coming…" He grunted before swinging open the door and almost slammed it back shut in disgust.

"Joyeux Anniversaire, mon beau Arthur~"

In this case, Francis was lucky enough that Arthur didn't know what 'beaux' meant in French. Otherwise, that would've turned out disgustingly horrible for the Frenchman. But thee he was, standing on his childhood friend's porch dressed in crisp spring clothes and a bouquet of roses cradled in his arm. He lightly chuckled at the face England was giving him and tilted his head slightly. "Happy birthday." He repeated, but this time in English.

Arthur had no idea what to make of this. Truth be told, he didn't remember it was his birthday today. He'd been in such a relaxed mood, he'd forgotten about it. But being a country, your birthdays were never really that important. Especially if you were England who'd had more than five hundred of them without even realizing it. But it wasn't because he'd forgotten that it was his birthday that surprised him, it was the fact that the Frenchman was the one telling it to him and he was carrying a _fucking bouquet of roses _out to him. Growling, Arthur ripped the roses from the man's hands, suddenly angered. "Gee thanks- Why don't you go surrender to the mayor or invent some new cheese or something."

The blond across from him frowned, crossing his arms. "What is wrong with this? I am just wishing my friend a happy birthday, non?" "What's wrong with it is that you showed up to my house uninvited and without my consent. And besides- Who's actually going to believe you were only here to give me roses- hm?" The Frenchman was slightly appalled by Arthur's rude behavior, but he was used to it by now. The two had always seemed to be bitter to one another, but Arthur never seemed to be able to give enough trust into the Frenchman to not scowl at him every time they met. "Well- That is what I came here to do Arthur-"

The Frenchman heard a 'thump' before watching as Arthur casted aside the roses and then took a step forwards before pushing with great force against the Frenchman's chest. Francis blinked in bewilderment as he was thrown backwards and out the door, Arthur immediately gripping the side of his door tightly in his palm.

"Angleterre? What are you-"

England growled before throwing the door into the man's face, immediately stamping his foot before grounding out, "Go the hell away frog! Can't you see I don't want you here?" Okay- so maybe he'd been a bit harsh but any more attention from that man would drive anyone crazy… Right? And England especially didn't want to be bothered on his birthday by the man…

But somehow, there was something unsettling bubbling at the pit of his stomach. Perhaps that was a very harsh thing to do but before Arthur could step outside and take it all back, he heard a car engine drive away and briefly looked out the window to see Francis' car speeding off into the distance.

Arthur waited a long time after Francis left, looking down at the bouquet of roses on his coffee table. He stared at that thing forever, like staring at it would somehow bring Francis back. To his dismay, a shudder went through Arthur's body and he tried to keep himself calm, gingerly picking up the roses. They smelled so sweet… He sighed to himself, flopping down onto the couch and looking down at them.

_Of course, the bloody frog remembers my birthday… _He grumbled, gently picking at a petal on the rose. He hadn't received anything else from anyone today; not even a call from Alfred like he normally received on this day. He hadn't even heard hide or tail of Peter ever since he left to go and live with Sweden anyways… The only one who'd remembered his birthday that day, was Francis. Even Arthur had forgotten it until that French bastard came up to his porch talking about it. And then Arthur had to go and ruin it by pushing him away…

The petal fluttered to the ground beside Arthur's feet and he pulled at another petal, mumbling words to himself. "…He loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not…" He hadn't even realized he'd been saying that, but one by one, as the petals fell off of one of the roses in the bouquet, Arthur landed on 'He loves me'. At first, disgusted, Arthur put down the roses, wanting them as far away from him as possible. It had to be just pure coincidence that there were enough petals on that rose for him to cast them all away from the stem and land on 'He loves me'. Why had he done that anyways? That was something girls did when they were infatuated with someone they clearly couldn't be in love with, right?

Still, he looked back down at the neglected roses. "Well…" He sighed. "They are the National flower of England…" He vaguely convinced himself before getting up and finding a vase to go ahead and put the flowers in.

Truth be told, Arthur didn't mind that Francis had given him roses, so long as the bloody pervert had stayed away from him to not molest him. He could be nice if he wanted to, Arthur slightly smiling at the memory of them when they were kids. Francis would always call himself 'Big brother France' and that he needed to go all out and protect England whenever he needed help, with a gentle and childish teasing of him every once in awhile. He liked it a lot back then; when Francis had always been around to sort of help England. Then… something changed. He didn't know exactly what started it, but it may have been because England finally wanted to be on his own and pushed Francis away because he didn't need help with anything. And then inside of his mind, he forced himself to believe that Francis was such a bad person, he shouldn't associate with him anymore.

Arthur let out a sigh he didn't know he'd been holding before he poured some water into a clear glass vase and went back to the coffee table where Francis' flowers were left. Putting down the vase, Arthur sat there on the couch. He didn't really know what he felt for Francis. Perhaps he was someone who bothered him to no end, or perhaps he wasn't as bad as England always made him out to be; a perverted rapist who'd do nothing more than try and get into his pants. Subconsciously, once again, Arthur picked up a rose and began to pick off the petals again over the pile of rose petals already sitting on his coffee table, this time chanting out something different. "Happy, unhappy, so-so… Happy, unhappy, so-so."

He continued on like this, time going by without the man realizing it as he placed down the last petal. "Happy…" He frowned. He didn't feel happy looking at the roses or thinking about the Frenchman. He felt stressed and he had no clue what to do… But then again- he couldn't say he was un-happy either. Sure the man could be… lewd at times, but Arthur still had to remember all of the times he and France had a decent conversation with each other. It just involved nothing more than a simple chat between people. So he couldn't say he was in between it all either. The blond felt his muscles relax and he sunk into his couch, the stem of the rose he'd just picked now sitting in his lap.

About an hour had passed, Arthur having not moved from that exact spot. He's just been sitting there in a state of wonder, as if he had all of the contents of his heart laid out in front of him. He couldn't recall ever having done this in the past: spending so much contemplating something so trivial such as did he love Francis or not. It seemed simple- like a yes or no question. But Arthur couldn't bring himself to find a yes or no somewhere in his thoughts. Once again, he looked down at the roses, still not having been placed inside of the vase he'd laid out for them about awhile ago and the male put the stem away from his lap and placed it amongst the pile of the rose petals and the other stem where he'd left it. Then, carefully, he brought the roses to his kitchen sink, snipping the bottom of them to make them good size for the vase, making sure no petals fell off before placing all but one more rose inside of the vase. Holding this one rose, Arthur tried that silly little thing once more.

"I love him, I love him not…" One by one, red petals fluttered below his hand and onto the coffee table, Arthur continuing the process. Who knew why he was trusting rose petals at this point, but honestly, his state of common sense had wandered elsewhere and he let something else worm its way into his brain. It may have been because Arthur's fearie friends counted and depended on flowers so much that he decided to trust the flower petals on his decision. His hand shook as three words jumbled out of his mouth, the last petal falling.

"I love him…"

He dropped the stem, common sense coming back into his mind as Arthur angrily stood up. "Is this what I'm doing? Honestly- it's not like that froggy bastard deserves any of my time thinking about him…" Arthur sighed, walking past a mirror in his house and looking at himself. Why would the bastard like him anyways? Even if Arthur did like him back (which he wasn't saying he did!), who would like Arthur? The Britain held a hand up top the two large eyebrows upon his head and sighed, looking down at himself. He didn't seem like that charming type… Large eyebrows, disheveled blond hair no matter how many times England tried to keep it in order and tame… Even if he did dress like a gentlemen, he wasn't doing the best of jobs when it came to looking attractive.

A chocked sob came out of his throat, gently touching the wall beside the mirror. "Who likes me anyways?... E-Everyone's left me… Alfred, Hong Kong… P-Peter even went off to live with Sweden and Finland for god's sake!" Biting down at his lip to keep himself from letting out emotions that had bottled up in his chest for a hundred something odd years, Arthur roughly turned away from the wall and looked back at the roses….

The least he could do was thank the man at least for giving him the roses. He felt he needed to do so anyways, after shoving the door in the man's face so violently. Building up some movement in his legs to go and find his phone (since when had he been unable to move his legs anyways?), he eventually found the thing sitting on one of his kitchen counters. It took him awhile before actually having to go and look up Francis; phone number on his Caller's list, repulsed he had his number on there in the first place. The more he waited for the accursed phone the pickup, the more he wanted to just hang up and forget about the phone thing.

"_Salut?" _Arthur gulped immediately as the words hit his ears, shuddering slightly before going to sit down on his couch, making sure Francis couldn't hear the rumble in the speaker of the phone while he was holding it to his ear. "U-Um… y-yes… Hello." He ground out, grumbling slightly trying to keep up his irritated attitude. "Um… I'm sorry about slamming the door in your face earlier…it was um… a-a very ungentlemanly thing t-to do…" He mumbled. "The flowers were nice though… Thank you." A bitter chuckle came out from the other end and England wormed his way deeper into his couch, looking back over at the roses.

"_De rien, Angleterre… But- why did you wait so long to tell me this?" _England paused, quickly coming up with a legitimate reply so Francis wouldn't find out about what had happened earlier. "W-well…" England looked over at the clock before nodding at something in his head. "I-It takes a long time for you to go from my house to yours s-so I waited until it would seem like you'd be home…" _God knows I don't need to bloody pervert to be getting any ideas if he found out about the whole rose petal thing…_

"_Ah." _Arthur shuddered against the phone gripping it tightly and hoped Francis would continue on because at this point, Arthur had no idea what to say. _"Well, I am glad you like them. But of course, they're not as good as your other present, oui?" _The Britain shook his head against the phone, even though he knew the Frenchman couldn't hear him and felt a shudder reverberate around the room from his chest. His lips tightened, and in a voice Arthur was surprised at he mustered, "N-No… You were the only one to give me a present today Francis…"

Had Arthur been paying attention to what Francis was doing, rather than at himself when he felt his voice choke and he bit down on his lip to force himself not to cry, he would've heard a car door shut in the background of Francis' phone. "B-Bloody h-hell… W-Why is i-it that n-no one else came here but you?..."

"Because everyone wants to be told 'Happy Birthday' whenever the time arrives. Country or not- you always want to feel remembered, oui?"

Arthur blinked before dropping the phone and he pursed his lips before doing something completely out of his character and clinging onto the Frenchman. Perhaps Francis was right, he felt lonely. He clenched onto the shirt of the bewildered Frenchman who'd just came into his house for the longest of times, gripping onto the sides of his shirt as a sob wracked its way through the Britain's chest. "A-Angleterre? Are you all right?" "Y-Yeah- I-I'm bloody fine damnit…" The Britain growled, only clinging tighter and heard a sigh from above him. "…Are you crying?" "I am not you bloody fucking wanker! T-The cologne your wearing is making my eyes water!"

A playful snort came from Francis' lips, but he didn't do anything else but hold the man and pattern circles into his back lovingly. Perhaps that would be the closet he and Arthur would ever get, but even if Arthur didn't return his feelings, Francis always wanted to be there for him. Ever since they were little, he felt he needed to look out for Arthur. And even now, he would never fail. Even at something so simple as giving someone a bouquet of roses, a pleasant smile and wishing them a Happy Birthday.

* * *

**(A/N: Cute little one-shot I came up with. :3 Je no parle pas Français trés bien. ^^;; However, if you do know a lot of French, it would be greatly appreciated if you corrected my mistakes since I'm still rusty on the language myself and I don't like the idea of butchering French. ;A; It's such a pretty language... anyways- For those who enjoyed, I hope it made you happy or laugh xD.**

Translations;  
"Joyeux Anniversaire, mon beau Arthur." - ("Happy birthday, my beautiful Arthur.")  
"Non." - ("No.")  
"Angleterre." - ("England.")  
"Salut?" - ("Hello.") [This is informal and something you'd say more to your friends than anything else.]  
"De rien." - ("It's nothing.")  
"Oui?" - ("Yes?")** )**


End file.
